


The Last Detective

by StarsGarters



Category: Old Hollywood, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hoarding, M/M, Murder Mystery, Podcasting, always read the job description, superfans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22344949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsGarters/pseuds/StarsGarters
Summary: Armitage Hux is a obsessed fan of the Old Hollywood Superstar Anakin Skywalker. He's been chasing a lost film, The Last Detective, for years and one day it shows up on his doorstep. There's only one place he that can take this priceless treasure to have it preserved, Skywalker Archives. There he becomes entangled in a murky snarl of murder, scandal, lies and hot sex with the strange man, Ben Snoke.Imagine if Anakin Skywalker was an beloved actor who was as rich as William Randolph Hearst. And he had terrible, horrible secrets.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

"So we're here with our good friend, Mr. Armitage Hux, to talk about the notorious missing noir film _The Last Detective_. Mr. Hux is a film student and a self-taught scholar of the film noir genre. His name even sounds like a lead in a noir film. Doesn't it? Welcome to _Hollywood Dream Factory_ , the podcast _._ Brought to you by Chaz. But first, have you ever gone to post office and stood in line forever—?” Hux tapped the skip button on his phone. He hated the commercials. Chaz wasn’t even his good friend, they’d met on a forum about Old Hollywood myths and legends and Chaz had been completely wrong about basically everything. But Chaz had a podcast with several thousand listeners that broadcast from his funky smelling basement and Hux did not. 

"Never stand in line at the post office again! Thank you to our sponsor. Now when we say the name Skywalker, everyone knows we're talking about the legendary actor, director, producer and overall film god Anakin Skywalker. From his humble beginnings as a carpenter and stunt man at the end of the silent film era to the most critically lauded performer over four decades of filmmaking Anakin Skywalker has defined Hollywood. That's why we're doing this deep dive. And of course, we can't forget about the massive philanthropic foundation for the preservation of film history, Skywalker Archives. God, I wish they'd let me in there just for a few hours, but the requirements for researching there are ludicrously tight. Not all of us can afford a doctorate, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Hux?" The host paused for a moment to catch his breath and then continued. Hux certainly didn't have a doctorate. He was still trying to figure out how to pay to apply for graduate school, fix his shitty car and rent. "Few film noir fans know about the mysterious lost film The Last Detective. Tell us about it, Mr. Hux."

Was there anything worse than listening the sound of your own voice? Hux cringed, his shoulders drawn up tight next to his ears as he listened to his appearance on the film podcast. "Thank you Chaz. It's a pleasure to be here. The Last Detective was produced in 1942 by ESB Studios. It had a budget of $575,000 dollars and starred Anakin Skywalker."

"But not just him, right?" Chaz interrupted. He never let anyone finish their thoughts. It was one of the things commenters complained the most about on Twitter. "This was also supposed to be one of the first appearances of the sultry red-headed starlet Mara Jade and a rare lead performance by African-American character actor Mace Windu. Just for those reasons it would have been a notable film."

"Yes. It was supposed to be. The budget alone was double what most noir films had, almost $14 million adjusted for inflation. That was because of Anakin bankrolled the whole film out of his own pocket. It was supposed to be his masterpiece. But the film was never released to the public and no one knows why." 

Hux poured himself a cup of tea to fill his stomach and curled up under three ratty blankets on his threadbare sleeper sofa. His stipend from his inheritance was just enough to prevent him from having to work to pay for his studio apartment, utilities and food, but not nearly enough to pay for anything frivolous. He wasn’t their child by blood, he was an act of charity. Hux snorted in disdain. He told himself that he'd get fat if he ate more than once a day.

"Maybe it was a bad film? That would be the simplest answer. It could have been a real bomb.“ Chaz proposed. He should be grateful that his pinched face didn't show up on an audio podcast. It was like chatting with a weasel in a plaid turtleneck.

"That doesn't make sense. Anything with Anakin's name on the marquee was a hit. Remember the Chimp Detective films? His costar was a man in a giant hairy monkey suit. They're utter garbage and people still wear t-shirts with the posters on them." In fact, Chaz had one on the basement wall. 

Chaz ignored his pointed glance at the decor. ”Films go missing all the time. The nitrate film stock is notoriously unstable and flammable. Remember the blaze that destroyed all the originals at Impact Studios? Such a tragedy."

"Yes. But sometimes films show up in the bottom of old linen closets, abandoned salt caves and horse barns. If anyone is listening to this and happens to have eight reels of _The Last Detective_ please let me know. I'll give you my firstborn." Oh that was bad. Made him seem like a fanatic, not a fan. Hux took a sip of too hot tea and scalded the tip of his tongue. "Film history is important. Movies are art and for too long they've been treated as disposable entertainment. I'd argue that more people have been touched by the filmography of Anakin Skywalker than have ever been by any painting hanging in the Louvre." 

"Now that's a hot take." Chaz coughed. "Even the Mona Lisa?"

"She only has a song named after her and she's really disappointing in person. A tiny little drab painting behind bulletproof glass. Skywalker Films is a dynasty. Even today it's still changing the landscape of film." Hux wholeheartedly believed in every word. It was the truth. "All we have about _The Last Detective_ is what was written about it, gossip and rumors and surviving promotional photography. I've collected a series of lobby cards and posters which I've uploaded on my website HuxFilmHistory dot com. If you can take a look at the art. It's top notch design and typography. Look at how Mara Jade's red hair implies blood and sensuality, yet skirts the censors." Appreciation was frankly evident in his voice, but Hux didn’t care. 

"It's not the Mona Lisa, though." Chaz quipped and Hux stabbed his middle finger towards the ceiling and turned off the podcast.

"It's not the Mona Lisa," Hux mockingly mumbled in a sing-song voice. "Fuck you Chaz. You wouldn't know culture if it bit you on the ass." He thumbed through the comments on the podcast. All three of them. An ad bot. A reply guy. And one actual comment that he read aloud, "How can I get in touch with Mr. Hux? He sounds hot.“ He rolled his eyes skyward and drained the rest of his cup of tea. "Moron. I gave my website out in the podcast and it’s in the summary.”

He dug his remote out from between the couch cushions and flicked on his one indulgence, a giant high definition television hooked up to every media player he could find. He even had a laserdisc player and a Betamax. It was easier to sink into the flickering lights on his television screen, a pantomime of life, than going outside to engage with strangers who could never understand how dear the characters he watched were to him. 

It probably wasn't healthy but there was no one around who cared enough to fret at him. So he pushed his misgivings and gnawing loneliness to the back of his brain. 

The sound was muted, but he knew all the words. Hux watched Anakin fall in love with a blonde woman, his open face and earnest eyes seducing the viewer far more than his costar. They hated each other in real life for some reason. Hux couldn't see why. His eyes were so open and honest, the curve of his sensuous lips hinted at hidden depths of sensuality. There was a good reason that this long dead man still lived in the hearts of millions. He was pure cinematic catnip. Hux wrinkled his nose at his terrible metaphor and laid down on his sleeper sofa. He was too lazy to fold out the bed. Too lazy and warm. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. It was one of many times he’d indulged in his fantasy of being held beneath the hands of a long dead superstar. 

The doorbell buzzer jolted Hux with a curse. Another buzz. He looked down at his wilted erection. "I'm coming!" _Eventually_. 

A delivery man held out his clipboard and Hux signed his name. He looked down at a brown paper box, neatly labeled with his name and address. There was no return address. 

It was heavier than he expected and he lifted it into his studio and shut the door. He fumbled about in the junk drawer for a box cutter and slit the tape. Piles of bubble wrap and packing peanuts with a note on plain paper on top. 

"I don't want your first born child, thanks." Hux read aloud, blinking in confusion. A sudden wild hope blossomed in his chest. Could it be? No. There was no way. Packing peanuts flew as Hux dug in the box. His fingers closed around cool metal. Round cool metal that was unmistakable to his trembling fingers. A film reel canister- no, _eight_ film reel canisters. Hux swallowed and held his breath as he peered at the peeling yellowed paper label on the top reel. "Property of ESB Films. Holy shit!" It was _The Last Detective_. He held the legendary missing film in his hands. Tears dripped down the tip of his nose and he wiped them off with the back of his hand. He started singing a tune under his breath as his heart thumped in his chest. _Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, men have named you.._.

Four hours later Hux was still sitting on his couch, staring at the box of film reels, his fingers steepled against his lips. He’d careful opened the canisters, just to make sure they were intact and all labeled sequentially. His first urge was to dig out his antique projector and have a screening, but he mentally slapped himself for that. These were priceless antiques. He shouldn’t even touch them without gloves. They should be in a climate controlled facility and transferred to digital archive then reprinted for the masses to finally enjoy. 

There was one place that could do justice to the enormity of this discovery. Skywalker Archives. Hux lunged for his laptop and began drafting an email. He paused. They’d want to take the film from him and there was no guarantee that he’d even get to watch it. He needed a lawyer, but on his budget a law student would have to do. Hux picked up his phone and texted the only legal professional he knew. His phone rang almost immediately.

“Hux! I thought you were dead!” Phasma greeted him so loudly that Hux flinched from his phone.“What do you need?” 

“I have possibly one of the most valuable pieces of film history ever made here in my living room and I need to you to help me draft an agreement so I won’t get screwed out of watching it.” There was a reason that this film was so buried and perhaps the Skywalker Foundation wouldn’t be interested in dredging up old wounds. “It might be spectacular, it might be trash but it’s _mine_ and I am going to get a copy of it.” 

“You’re not interested in selling it?” 

The idea made him physically ill. “No. That’s— that’s not the point. I just want to watch it. I’ve wanted to watch it since the moment I learned about it. And no one will have ever done that before.” And for a single crazy moment, he’d have Anakin Skywalker all to himself. 

“You’re stupid to not try to get some money to pay for school. They’re going to expect some sort of demand exchange. You should ask for some paltry amount like 250K.”Hux choked on his own spit. “That’s pocket change to these folks, petty cash. Why not parlay this into access to the whole archive? They’re so picky about who they let in there and you’d sell body parts to see things in their vault.”

“That— thatcould work.” Hux looked down into the box and squeezed his own thigh in anticipation. “You’re a genius, Phasma.” 

“And if they say no, then you can go public and take it from there. If this thing was as buried as you say, I bet more loaded film fans would love to see it. Take photos of each of the canisters to send with the email. I’ll send you a contract to take with you when they contact you.” 

“How can I ever repay you?” 

“That’s what the 250K is for, love.” Phasma laughed. “I’ll take a small commission.” 

The only suit Hux owned was the one that he bought for his parents’ funeral. It was deep blue polyester and creased at the thighs from the long drive. He felt like a dressed up doll whenever he wore it, but the idea of walking into Alderaan in worn jeans and a ratty sweater made him cringe. He gazed up at the massive wrought iron gates that loomed above his shitty hatchback, unrolled the window and pressed the gate security button. 

“State your business.” The demand crackled with static.

“Armitage Hux.” His voice cracked a bit on his own name, but hopefully the speaker didn’t pick it up. “I’m here for a meeting with Chairman Snoke.” 

“You may enter.” The gates creaked open to reveal a front courtyard that rivaled old French royal estates. Alderaan was the name of Anakin’s estate, but most people called it Skywalker’s Castle. Skywalker Archives was in a modern building downtown, but Chairman Snoke had insisted on meeting in Alderaan. It was a dream come true. Hux had memorized the tour books and online presentations, but there was nothing like seeing the grandeur in person. Hux drove slowly, trying to absorb the details of the topiaries, hedge mazes and was that a zebra? Hux cranked his neck, but lost track of the animal in the shadows. 

Conspicuous consumption. Gilt on every fountain and lighting fixture. New money imitating the excess of old money in order to claim prestige and the illusion of nobility. It was beyond gaudy, but Hux found it charming. Anakin had nothing when he started and when he died his legacy was as rich and ostentatious as a pharaoh of old. Hux could never hope to have an iota of anything as grand and so he observed it without envy, a scholarly distance. 

There was a valet and an honest to god butler in a formal uniform awaiting him on the marble front steps. Hux brushed some chip crumbs off of the passenger seat and the butler raised an eyebrow for a moment, then quickly recovered his neutrally pleasant expression. “Please come with me sir.” 

Hux suppressed a gasp as he walked behind the butler. The entire foyer ceiling was painted in imitation of the Sistine Chapel. What wasn’t painted was gilded or covered in gold mosaic tiles. Light flowed in from reflected recessed skylights and warm gold gas lamps. It was like walking into the interior of a star. “Oh.” Hux murmured, his voice hushed as if walking into a sacred place. 

“This way, if you please sir.” The butler gestured to him. Hux stepped into a conference room that was jarringly modern. 

“Mr. Hux. We have been expecting you.” A voice like a rusty metal gate. Chairman Snoke was the oldest looking person Hux had even seen. He was gnarled and dark like an ancient desert tree. Perched on his head was possibly the worst toupee in existence. A squirrel stapled to his bald head would have been more convincing. Hux glanced away from the distracting hairpiece and caught the all too knowing dark-eyed gaze of Chairman Snoke’s attractive assistant. His full lips twitched in a fleeting smirk as if he knew what Hux was thinking about the toupee. 

“Let us get to the point. Did you bring the film reels, Mr. Hux?” Chairman Snoke asked, rapping his fingers on the black marble tabletop. Hux felt as if he were negotiating with a gangster from one of Anakin’s early mobster films. 

Hux shook his head as he sat down at the other side of the table. “They are in a secure location known only to myself and my legal team.” It was mostly true. He had texted Phasma that he’d put the films in the trunk of his car where the spare tire was supposed to be. 

“Have you told anyone where you are?” An ominous question. 

“My legal team knows of course. They expect a check in from me with the appropriate password. I also have a blog post and email blast ready to send if I do not deactivate it. And I do not save my passwords on my devices.” Hux improvised, he’d done nothing of the sort. Snoke’s icy stare was chilling his blood. “I assumed that you would appreciate discretion which is why I approached you directly, rather than having a press conference.” 

“I have looked over your proposal and would like to offer a counter-proposal.” Chairman Snoke slid a paper towards Hux. “The money is inconsequential. We cannot allow a copy of _The Last Detective_ to exist outside of our archives. It was a condition in Anakin Skywalker’s last will and testament. You understand that we must honor his wishes.” Hux’s fist clenched hard enough to dig fingernails into his palm. “However, you seem to be someone who truly understands both the gravity and the honor of your situation. You may not have a copy of the film, but you may watch it here after it is transferred. It will take some time to properly archive the film and so we would like to offer you a position as a Scholar in Residence. You’ll reside here at Alderaan in one of the guest rooms and have access to the entire grounds. You will be paid your requested pittance in addition to a stipend. You will sign a nondisclosure agreement until two years have passed and then you’ll be able to publish your manuscripts.” Chairman Snoke leaned on his elbow. “I assume that would be acceptable.”

It took all of Hux’s willpower to stop from leaping to his feet and shouting in triumph. He folded his hands in his lap and gripped until his knuckles blanched white. “Quite acceptable.” He reached for the paperwork and signed it after reading through the terse legal document. 

“Good. Good.” Chairman Snoke stood up. “I’ll leave you with my son, Ben. He will be your guide to the wonders of Alderaan. I’d do it myself but,” Chairman Snoke coughed a laugh, “There’s too many stairs. Be careful and watch your step Mr. Hux.” 

Hux blinked and pressed his hands to his face in an attempt to calm his nervous triumph. His heartbeat rushed in his ears and he barely noticed when Chairman Snoke left the room. 

“Are you okay?” Ben Snoke asked in a soft, deep voice from beside him. “Do you need a drink of water? Or maybe something stronger? You look like you’re going to pass out.” He sat on the edge of the conference table and held out a crystal goblet of icy water. “Please, take it.” 

“I—I— I just got everything I ever wanted in life. I might just pass out from sheer euphoria.” Hux gasped out and then drained the water in a single draught. Ben had big hands that enveloped the delicate empty goblet, made it look like an expensive toy. He looked nothing like Snoke. Dark moles scattered across pale skin and large, warm eyes. An odd face, but intriguingly familiar. Something nagged at the back of Hux’s mind, but the adrenaline from achieving his heart’s desire overwhelmed the simple curiosity. He blurted out, “You’re the Chairman’s son?” 

“Adopted.” Ben smiled. “I think we have that in common. Among other things.” 

Hux’s eyebrows shot up. “How did you know that?” 

Ben poured another glass of water and handed it to Hux. “Ran the security screening on you. It’s my job to protect the Skywalker legacy.” He waited until Hux began to drink and asked, “So do you want to go get the film reels out of the trunk of your car?” Hux snorted water out of his nose and Ben smiled wider. “Ah, I thought so. See, you’re almost as big of a fan of Anakin as I am. So you wouldn’t have let that treasure out of your sight. I bet you slept with the reels under your bed.” He reached over and blotted the water on Hux’s face with a cloth napkin. It was a bizarrely intimate thing to do to a complete stranger. Perhaps Ben’s research had been extraordinarily in depth, but Hux knew nothing about him. One thing was for certain, Ben was _not_ a bigger fan of Anakin Skywalker than Hux was. Not even close. 

“You’re not as clever as you think.” He sat up straighter and set the crystal tumbler down on the table and looked Ben in the eyes. “I don’t have a bed. I put them on my sleeper sofa. And there’s no one who knows more about Anakin Skywalker than I do.”

Ben tilted his head to the side in amusement, an infuriating wry-twist of a smile. “Welcome to Alderaan, Armitage Hux.”


	2. Chapter 2

The only things keeping Hux from floating off into the clouds were the steady pressure of the cardboard box holding _The Last Detective_ upon his lap and the creeping anxiety of letting it out of his hands. Hux pressed his nose against the cardboard, inhaling the light musty scent. Soon he'd be the first person to see it, the first person in half a century. It made the windfall of cash and the new job at Alderaan pale in comparison.

Chairman Snoke's son drove them in silence to the private entrance of Skywalker Archives. Hux caught his furtive glance in the rear view mirror and bristled in mild embarrassment. Hux felt the tips of his ears burn and hid his face against the cardboard.

They pulled into a private gated underground garage. Ben opened Hux's door and reached down to take the box. Hux's fingers refused to relax. Ben pulled a little harder and Hux lurched to the side, still unable to relinquish his prize. "Mr. Hux. You have to let go." Ben spoke in a low soothing tone, like Hux was an unpredictable feral beast with his teeth sunk into a meaty bone.

"But what if I never see it?" Hux croaked out, his voice wavering. "It's the only thing I've ever wanted for myself." It was pathetic and soul-searingly true. Most everything else had been done at the behest of his adoptive parents or to satisfy the requirements of mere survival. 

Ben crouched down to Hux's level and put his warm, calloused hand over Hux's. They were almost the same height but Ben's huge hand engulfed Hux's slender fingers. "I promise you'll get to see it. I want to watch it with you. No one else would understand how excited I am about it. But you're going to have to let go of the box, Mr. Hux." With great straining effort, Hux unclamped his grip and Ben effortlessly hoisted the box away from him. "Do you want to come inside with me? See where our baby is going?"

Hux nodded, unable to trust his voice and ashamed of the heat in his cheeks. _Our baby._

"This way." Ben pointed with his elbow. "Just follow me."

Stark white painted corridors lit with humming fluorescent lights sloped down into the depths beneath the building. "This place is earthquake proof, if you're worried about that." Ben spoke as if he were a tour guide. "The vaults are better equipped than a bomb shelter and even have radiation shielding. Anakin was very particular about his archive and he had the money to back it up." 

They arrived at a small desk and Ben set the box down on it, then pressed a button. A short old woman with thick glasses and a messy bun of grey hair bustled out from behind a thick steel door. She brightened as she saw Ben. "Hello sunshine! I haven't seen you in ages."

"Hi Betty. I've been knee deep in, well, everything. You know how it goes." Ben smiled. "Let me introduce you to our new Scholar in Residence, Armitage Hux. Mr. Hux, this is Betty. She's head of archival administration." Hux held out his hand and Betty shook it, her skin warm and dry as baking parchment. 

She canted her head to the side and regarded him with a curious warm smile. “Oh Ben. He is cute. So much cuter than the rest of them, no wonder you brought him to see me. I approve. You did a good job!“ 

"Betty." Ben warned, raking his fingers through his long dark hair. A pink flush stained his ridiculously high cheekbones. It matched the splotchy blush on Hux’s own pale face. “He’s an employee, not my date.” 

Betty did not seem convinced but she turned her attention to the cardboard box. “Yes, yes. Keep it professional. My apologies for my presumption, Mr. Hux. My job title is a fancy way of saying that I throw out the garbage and keep the good stuff. What have you brought me?"

" _The Last Detective_." Hux intoned with the grandeur that the discovery warranted.

"No!" Betty gasped.

"Yes." Ben nodded. “It’s all in here. I checked.” 

"This is amazing. I never thought I'd see an actual copy!"

"Not a copy," Hux chimed in. "The original reels." 

Betty’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “And how did you happen to find this, Mr. Hux?"

"The Post Office." Hux shrugged. “Someone mailed it to me after listening to me on a podcast, I think."

“You’re the podcast Hux? Of course you are! There can’t be many people with that last name. Oh Chaz is insufferable, isn't he?" Betty leaned in conspiratorially. “He talks over all of his guests and then gets irritated when they try to finish their sentences.” 

Hux’s jaw fell open. “You listened to me?”

"Betty and I sometimes listen to Anakin Skywalker related things when there's processing downtime. So you'll let us know when the digital copy is ready after the preservation and documentation, right?" Ben said.

"I thought that Mr. Skywalker’s will forbade screenings." Betty tapped her finger on her chin. 

"It's not a screening. It's Mr. Hux's reward for bringing this to us instead of selling it. And you know I'd break into the vault myself if I didn't get to watch it."

"You are Anakin's biggest fan, Ben.” Hux snorted at that statement and Betty brightened. “Oh, having a little competition are we boys?”

Ben hooked his thumbs into his pants pockets. ”I’m just waiting to see how he reacts to the side of Alderaan that doesn't show up in the press promos."

”He doesn't know? Oh dear." Betty smirked. "Well I won't ruin the surprise. Toodles boys. I have a date with history.“ Betty hoisted the box with surprising strength and disappeared behind the heavy locked door. 

As they walked back to the car, Hux said. ”I’m generally not a fan of surprises."

Ben smiled. “You should ask more questions before signing a contract then." He stopped suddenly and Hux almost ran into his broad back. He looked Hux up and down and then nodded. “What size of boot do you wear?"

There was nothing good about rubber boots, latex gloves and full body hooded coveralls. Hux drew the zipper up to his throat and Ben helped tuck his sleeves into the gloves. “Why are we dressed like we’re going to decontaminate a hot zone? Are there zombies in Alderaan’s basement?” Hux fiddled with the particulate filter mask around his neck. 

Ben laughed. “You're funny. That's good. A lot of people don't make it any farther than this point. They sign the non disclosure agreement and then bail on me. It's really annoying."

"You didn't deny the zombies in the basement." Hux was already sweating in the coveralls. 

"Do you believe those rumors that Anakin was involved in the occult? That he sold his soul to the devil at a crossroads at midnight while sacrificing a virgin for success?"

Hux huffed out a breath of annoyance. “He might have played around with a Ouija board but the only things that get you success are hard work and luck."

"And who your parents are. Don't forget that cruel twist of fate."

"Of course. But you still haven't denied the zombies and I'm not moving a step until you elaborate." Hux crossed his arms.

Ben ran his fingers through his hair and then bound it back in a messy bun. “This isn't public knowledge, but in his latter years Anakin had a small teeny tiny hoarding problem. He saved everything. It didn't matter if it was a contract or a grocery list. He held on to it. That's the reason he founded Skywalker Archives. It was another place to hold onto his hoard of stuff." Ben gestured to his white Tyvek overalls. "Hence our charming outfits. Mr. Scholar in Residence, you and I get to sort through the stuff, scan it and then pack it away for storage in the vault."

"So we're janitors." The cart of cleaning supplies lurking in the hallway made sense now. 

"Well paid archival specialists. You get to dig through the intimate daily life of the greatest movie star that ever lived and you're not leaping at the chance? Wow. I'm disappointed."

"I didn't say that I was walking away. It's just a lot to process."

"I've found whole films in here. Experimental stuff. Love letters." Ben waggled his eyebrows and smirked, then shrugged his broad shoulders. "I suppose if you're not into mysterious mysteries then you're not much of a scholar." 

"Are you challenging me? Are you poking at my ego to make me capitulate to this? You are! You're trying to goad me into diving into garbage." And it was working. "It can't be worse than working retail. Have you seen what people leave in dressing rooms?“ 

“It's mostly paper. Occasionally there's a mummified sandwich or a mouse. That's why we have to suit up. The goal is to get the first floor cleared in time for the one hundredth anniversary of Alderaan so we can have tours without any tourists dying."

Hux raised his eyebrows at the hint of mortal peril. “Dying? From being crushed by falling garbage?"

"Actually, there's a second part to our job.” Ben shuffled his feet. “Mostly my job. Anakin also got really paranoid towards the end of his life. He fired all his staff and lived on canned soup and saltines in one room on the third floor. And he hired contractors to install elaborate traps in the rooms to catch imaginary thieves and burglars. I clear out the booby traps. I've gotten pretty good at it, but sometimes I fuck up." Ben pointed at the thin red scar that bisected his face. "Piano wire snare in an atrium window. Forty-seven stitches.”

"Jesus Christ." Hux softly cursed. "Why did he do that?"

"He had something to hide I suppose. Maybe he has a secret room full of the bodies of all the virgins he sacrificed to the devil. Or he was old, rich and crazy. I dunno." Ben shrugged. "Honestly, I'm never bored here because there's surprises like guillotines stuck in crawlspaces. I've had to figure it all out on my own, hence my trolley of tools and janitorial supplies. Chairman Snoke believes in self-motivation and on the job training." Ben rubbed the scar on his face. 

"But you're his son. Why would he put you in danger like that?" Even his reluctant, neglectful parents wouldn’t deliberately put his life in danger. 

Ben pulled the coverall hood up over his head. It covered his eyes so Hux couldn’t’ see them. “I owe him everything. If I'm stupid enough to die from one of these traps, then I wasn't worth the effort of adoption." 

"That's--" _Awful_ , Hux thought and chose his next word carefully. “An odd parenting style.”

"That's the truth." Ben swung open the double doors to a French Rococo style drawing room. Hux wished he'd spent more time in art history classes. Cherubs and angels swarmed up the paneled walls to cluster in a gaggle of pink fleshy baby limbs at the apex of the ceiling dome. It was gloriously tacky. The floor was smothered in papers and random household objects in scattered piles that reached Hux's hips. It was a disaster.

Ben pulled the trolley behind them. “I use a stick to open new doors, but I've cleared this room of traps and most of the first floor. And the rooms where we'll be staying, of course."

"I would hope so. I'd hate to perish on my way to the bathroom." Hux inspected what he could see of the floor and built in mahogany bookshelves. "This isn't so bad. Are you just showing me one of the easy rooms so that I won't run away screaming?"

"I just like to keep the zombie sex dungeon a surprise." Ben grinned. It was contagious.

Ben stepped to the side to let Hux go first, but Hux demurred. "Oh no, after you. You know what the traps look like."

"Good point. On the bright side, he didn't have any pets. So we don't have to worry about fecal matter or dead critters." Ben gestured to the east end of the room. "You get started over there. Just glance at the stuff and put it in a bag. If it looks important, put it in this red box and we'll scan it later or take photographs." 

“Right. Let’s get started.” Hux knelt down to poke at a pile of promising papers. 

"It's going to be nice working with you, Mr. Armitage Hux."

"Just call me Hux. I'm not fond of my first name, Mr. Snoke."

A snort of laughter. ”There's only one Mr. Snoke. Call me Ben." 

"Cell phone service is complete garbage out here and nobody delivers. When we get to a good stopping point, I'll cook us a nice dinner, show you to your rooms and maybe we can watch a film in the screening room. Sound good?" Ben thrust a handful of yellowed newspapers into his bin. 

"Better than all the dates I've been on recently." Hux remarked as he shuffled through the trash. “Whoa! This is amazing!" He held up a scrap of paper in triumph.

Ben almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to see what Hux held. “What? What did you find?"

A devilish grin spread over Hux’s lips. “A phone bill from 1965. Absolutely riveting.”  He ducked when Ben threw it at him. 

“What was the best thing you found today?” Ben asked as he prepared dinner. 

The servants' quarters kitchen was tiled with imported Spanish terra cotta decorated with flying birds and roses. Hux sat at a small table and peeled potatoes for their supper. “My favorite thing had to be the small leather diary that was inscribed on the front cover, _To my beloved Anakin. Think of me._ And the whole thing was filled with page after page of dick doodles. Like seventy pages of penises.” 

“Yeah, he drew those a lot. I’ve found yellow note pads filled with boobs too. He loved to doodle.” 

“Do you think Anakin Skywalker was bi?” Hux asked, staring at the potatoes too intently. “There were those rumors about him and his acting coach.” 

“Would it make a difference if he was?” Ben replied.

“Not really.” Hux rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “I guess it would just be nice to know if I would have had a chance with him.” Hux winced as the words came out of his mouth. “Sorry. I guess I’m one of those fans.” 

“What kind of fan?” Ben dug in the cabinet for spice jars that were probably older than he was.

“One of those crazy fanatics who have a crush on a dead man. I mean, I can’t be the only guy that wanted to sleep with Anakin Skywalker in his prime, right? Didn’t you?” Hux ventured, a quaver of hope in his voice.

“I am one of the few people who doesn’t want to sleep with Anakin Skywalker.” Ben chewed on his plush lower lip. “I’m really into redheads.” 

Redheads? Like Mara Jade? Hux blinked back his shock and watched as Ben bustled about the stove, heating up a smoking griddle. 

He rolled up his sleeves and Hux stared at the ink on his forearms. A stylized Incan statue of a llama. The hilt of a rapier. Hux knew those tattoos. The peeler glanced off Hux's thumb and he cursed, sticking the tiny cut into his mouth. "You okay there Hux?" Ben asked as his sprinkled a thick steak with salt and pepper.

"The Curse of the Incas and The King's Wayward Daughter." Hux studied his potato peels intently. "Your ink."

Ben set the pepper mill down and leaned against the counter, highlighting his thick thighs and the slope of his muscled torso. “You aren’t just any fan, are you? You're the real deal.” 

Hux felt heat creep up the back of his neck. It was bewildering and amazing to be with someone who understood his devotion and study of one man. Someone who looked at me as if he were something special instead of a weirdo. He deflected Ben’s praise with a airy wave of his hand. ”I just have a refined taste in cinema. Those are two of my favorite Anakin Skywalker films. I have a tattoo of the Morning Star." The ship that Anakin sailed in The King's Wayward Daughter was inked low on his right hip, sailing into the sunset.

"Can I see it?" Ben asked, something hungry in his gaze. "I have more I can show you too.”

He was not going to make it through months of this, Hux thought. He had to press the brakes, had to step back or he’d be on his knees on the imported Spanish terra-cotta tiles. “Do we know each other well enough to do show and tell?"

Ben swallowed and turned back to the stove. He slapped the steak down on the griddle. “I guess not. After reading your website and watching your videos, I just felt like we might have had a connection. I'm sorry, I shouldn't assume that you're even into guys. And you're an employee now and man, I royally messed up here. I'm sorry." 

Oh no. Hux gripped his own thighs, fingers tight. “You watched my videos?"

"I subscribe to your channel." Ben set the timer on the stove. “So I saw the Pride video, you know the one with the—“ 

Oh no. “Rainbow sequined booty shorts.” Hux finished. “I deleted that video after five minutes!” 

“You shouldn’t have.” Ben smiled as he flipped the steak. “It was a classic piece of cinema.”


End file.
